Sibila Petlevski
angleščina
Jednorog
Ležeć njoj do nogu, usred polja žita,
vena presječenih, smireno se pita
kad će osmijeh skinut grč sa milog lica.
Ona ljušti kabel, stišće svežanj žica,
hoće spriječit protok. Napon struje pada.
Htjela bi da njegov život teče duže;
drži trošno uže i kad pline nada.
Hoće li popustit stisak, proći bol
što ga stvara strašni djevičanski spol
žudnjom da sve spasi odavde do neba?
Malo mira, samo malo mira treba
ovo krotko biće samo s jednim rogom.
Slab je on i pitom; razblažen k'o voda.
Pusti nek isteče, ode s milim bogom.
Iz: Koreografija patnje
Zagreb: Konzor, 2002
Avdio produkcija: David Gazarov, 2008
Weak as Water
Lying quite at her feet,
veins cut, in a field of wheat,
he expects her face would relax
in a smile. Teasing flex,
disturbing the peaceful
current of his life, she holds on
a fretted rope, beyond hope.
He hopes her grip would relax
but that frightful virgin sex
does not seem to let him go.
All he seeks is a little bit of peace.
He’s meek. Tame as a unicorn
and weak. Weak as water.
Virgin Mary, let him spring a leak.